Retrouvailles francaises
by Trollmela
Summary: Rusty Ryan is lying low in France when he encounters Terry Benedict and this time their encounter may just turn hotter than the last ones. Slash; Rusty/Terry
1. Part 1

Retrouvailles françaises

_Disclaimer: _Neither Ocean's 11, 12 nor 13 belong to me.

_Rating_: PG-13 / T

_Warning: _slash

_Pairing_: Rusty/Terry

_Summary:_ Rusty Ryan is lying low in France when he encounters Terry Benedict and this time their encounter may just turn hotter than the last ones.

_Author's notes:_ Retrouvailles françaises: French reunion.

I'd like to thank my beta Megan (webbswoman) for her corrections, suggestions and encouragement. She was a great help to me and without her this story would only be half as good.

* * *

**Part 1**

Rusty loved the Côte d'Azur. The Southern French region was blessed with sun, warmth and beautiful beaches, all things that Rusty appreciated whenever it was too hot for him in the States and he thought it better to go away for a little while. He also appreciated the sheer amount of money which went through there, carried by movie stars as well as successful business men who kept either houses or yachts (or even both) there. There they spent their money not only on clothing and jewelry, but also in the Casinos between Saint-Tropez, where some of the villas and yachts were, and Monaco, where the most famous casino was situated and everybody came for shopping and to show off their car.

Even though Rusty had made so much money, especially on the last heist, that he would probably never have to pull another one again in his whole life and he himself could show off his clothes and car, his fingers still itched whenever he saw all of the cash being thrown around.

Four weeks after his arrival, Rusty was sitting on the patio of a café in Monte Carlo, enjoying a large cup of hot chocolate and a croissant. Rusty's table was in a corner created by the wall of the restaurant and the hedge; he had a great view of the back door of the café towards the patio without being seen immediately and this suited him.

Everyone who passed the door was assessed by him for style and actual wealth by the way they walked, talked and ate. A blonde woman had come in just a few minutes before who, at first glance anyway, wore fashionable clothes and sunglasses. But someone who looked a little closer, and Rusty was used to taking a very close look, noticed immediately that the dress she was wearing was actually a copy of what the current starlets were wearing, produced by a large off-the-rack company. The sunglasses were also far from being designer label. Rusty dismissed her. Obviously she was in desperate need of attention.

Bored, he continued eating his croissant and observing the clientele. The next customer stepped onto the patio. The man faced away from him, so Rusty could only see the black suit that covered the form, an unfortunate color in Rusty's opinion as the black heated up much more easily than light colors did. The man's jet black hair was cut off just about an inch above his white shirt collar which showed over the suit. A waitress was trying to follow the man as he quickly made his way to a table in the corner almost diagonally across from Rusty's.

The man turned and Rusty promptly pulled the sunglasses over his eyes as he recognized Terry Benedict.

He was surprised to see the casino tycoon in France. Usually Benedict didn't trust anyone else to lead his businesses and so rarely left the country.

He hunched down in his seat and lowered his head to avoid Benedict's gaze, which he knew would be sweeping the patio, but at the same time he tried to keep an eye on him. If he attempted to change his seat now and turn his back to the room it would catch the other man's attention most certainly. So he tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, something that any thief and pickpocket had to excel at, and finished his chocolate and the croissant as quickly as possible without rushing them. Then he called the waiter and asked for the check. The waiter had just turned around and taken a step when he was intercepted by Terry Benedict.

"Oh no, please, that is not necessary. I think he is going to stay for a while," he said in flawless French.

The waiter turned back to Rusty.

"Bring it anyway," the blonde instructed, also in French.

"Rusty Ryan. What a surprise," Benedict smiled pleasantly and took a seat across from Rusty. "Where's Ocean?" His gaze was trained intensely on the other man.

Rusty chuckled and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"My guess is in the States."

"So, no genius plans to try and ruin me financially?"

"Nope." he shook his head. "Actually I'm here to relax."

"Right. What is it? A gallery? A bank? Another casino? Humor me."

"Still no. Like I said, I'm here on vacation. The States got a little hot, if you know what I mean."

Benedict's eyebrow twitched, his lips pursed a tiny bit and finally he nodded.

"Your presence here surprised me quite a lot as well. I thought you didn't leave your casinos in foreign hands." Rusty stated.

"My managers are capable men."

"Yeah, I'm sure they are. But you're a control freak."

Benedict didn't answer right away but finally he said: "I've heard that some of the casinos and hotels here are quite lucrative."

"Ah. You're thinking of buying yourself into Europe."

"Maybe." Benedict shrugged.

Rusty stuck his tongue out between his teeth and gave first his bottom and then his upper lip a small lick. He had learned that gestures like this one were distracting to people and he used them occasionally to unsettle his counterpart. A time or two he had even seen Danny look. But Benedict didn't even blink an eye. Rusty was almost disappointed at his lack of reaction. Maybe he should try something different?

But just then the waiter arrived at the table and handed the check to Rusty who paid. Benedict observed but didn't interrupt again.

"Is there anything else?" Rusty asked.

Slowly Benedict shook his head. "No."

"Well then: have a nice day." He stood up.

"Perhaps we will see each other again."

"Perhaps." Rusty responded and left, feeling the other man following him with his eyes.

* * *

Continued in Part 2


	2. Part 2

Retrouvailles françaises

_Disclaimer: Neither Ocean's 11, 12 nor 13 belong to me. The Hotel "Metropole" in Monte-Carlo does exist but it is also not mine I have never been there and make no profit of mentioning it here nor do I intend to damage its reputation. Monsieur Beauchène is fictional._

**Part 2**

Rusty was staying in a suite at the Hotel Metropole in Monte-Carlo not far from the state's most famous casino which, he, of course, visited quite frequently. He didn't even cheat when he played.

The hotel had a swimming pool outside with a few dozen comfortable deck chairs. Two days after his encounter with Terry Benedict he was lying in one of them a few feet away from the pool and collecting sunrays. Next to him on a low table sat a large bowl full of gummi bears on which he was constantly snacking.

It was 4 o'clock in the afternoon and quite a lot of people were outside in the pool area, either in the pool or on one of the chairs. And Rusty had to admit that he liked the European sense of freedom; mainly the women who had taken off the top half of their bikinis and were lying in the sun with their eyes closed.

He, himself, was wearing a pair of black shorts and as he had taken a swim just a few minutes before, water droplets covered his body. A pair of sunglasses with reflective shades covered his eyes and allowed him to observe people without anyone knowing exactly where he was looking. Once again he was bored out of his mind. He was starting to think that maybe he should try something in Europe. It didn't even have to be a big heist, just something to occupy him. Or maybe he would have to look up Benedict and try to unsettle and annoy the man. Rusty smirked. Yeah, maybe he would do that. And it seemed like he wouldn't even have to look very hard for the man, he thought, as he discovered a group of men in suits who had just entered the pool area.

There were a total of four people and one of them was Terry Benedict. Once again he was dressed in a dark suit; a well-manicured hand took dark designer sunglasses out of the pocket of his suit jacket and placed them elegantly on his nose. Next to him a tall, gray-haired man with a deep tan, dressed in a white suit was talking to him in French and using great gestures to make his point. The two men behind them were younger and carried brief cases. Assistants. And Benedict's companion was the hotel manager. So the Metropole was the hotel Benedict was thinking of buying. Or at least one of various hotels.

Rusty studied Benedict. The last time they had crossed paths Rusty had been more interested in the man's business and habits than his physical attributes. Blowing up his beloved car and threatening with murder was not exactly in Rusty's book of pickup lines either. But this was Monaco so maybe he would be able to reshuffle the deck and deal new cards. Terry Benedict was an attractive man and Rusty itched to see if he could tempt the man despite their history.

Another smirk curled Rusty's lips. Now he only had to make sure that Benedict also saw him. A last gummi bear was tossed into his mouth before the blonde stood up and walked towards the pool, making sure to cross the path Benedict was taking. The other man spotted him a few moments before the smiling Rusty passed him, brushing casually against him. A quick sleight of hand and Benedict's cell phone took its new residence with Rusty (for the moment inside his shorts, because where else would he put it?). Benedict didn't notice anything and continued on talking with the hotel manager. But the cell phone would bring him back to Rusty, because as soon as he noticed its absence he would know who had taken it. And so Rusty returned satisfied to his chair and settled down to wait.

Half an hour later a figure blocked out the sun and threw a shadow over Rusty's dozing form.

"My cell phone." it said.

Unhurriedly the blonde sat up, pushed the sunglasses into his hair and put one of his best I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about-face on.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"Give me back my cell phone," Benedict growled.

"Oh." Rusty blinked confusedly. "Did I take it?"

Benedict was alone now. Neither his assistant nor the hotel manager was with him. He lowered himself into a crouch next to Rusty's chair.

"You are increasingly becoming an annoyance, Mr. Ryan. We can do this the easy or the hard way. You can give me my cell phone back without any problems or I can go to Mr. Beauchène and advise him to call the police because he has a pickpocket in his hotel. It's your choice."

Rusty grimaced. "You're no fun, you know that?" he returned the cell phone.

"I'm a businessman, Ryan." Benedict stood up.

"Why don't we go eat dinner tonight?"

Benedict lifted a single eyebrow and looked at Rusty.

"Maybe I miss the old times."

"You mean when you and Ocean stole 160 million from my vault?"

"You got that back, didn't you? Plus interest, too. And then you got another few million off the Banks heist."

"Which you so graciously gave to charity in my name."

"Which got you a nicer reputation and an appearance on the Oprah Winfrey Show. Danny would kill for that."

Benedict rolled his eyes and turned away.

"So what about dinner?" Rusty asked again.

"8 o'clock. At Jean's next to the café from two days ago." Benedict spat back. "Don't be late." And he left.

Grinning, Rusty laid back down, his boredom gone.

* * *

Rusty entered Jean's at a little before 8. He spotted Benedict at one of the VIP tables on a raised platform towards the back of the room which was separated by a low banister from the other tables. Leisurely he walked towards the table and sat down. Benedict checked his watch. The digits changed to 8.00 and Benedict raised one eyebrow.

"I'm impressed."

"Timing is everything. I'm sure you must have noticed that when we broke into your vault." Rusty smirked.

"So I did."

The menus had already been put onto the table and a waiter came up to ask whether they wanted an aperitif. Rusty ordered Pastis, Benedict asked for wine. Almost simultaneously they opened their menus and studied it.

"Tell me, why exactly did you want this?"

"Why did I want what?"

Benedict threw an annoyed look to Rusty before continuing to study the menu.

"Why did you insist on eating out with me?"

The corner of Rusty's lips twitched upwards.

"Maybe because I thought that asking you whether you wanted to have sex with me was too outright."

Benedict stopped in the middle of turning a page but didn't look at Rusty. After a moment he closed the menu and placed it back. He looked up straight at Rusty who was sipping his newly delivered glass of Pastis and returning his gaze, amusement evident in his eyes and the upward turn of his lips.

The waiter broke the silence and asked for their orders. After he had left, Benedict's eyes returned to Rusty who had cocked his head slightly to the right and was still smiling. Again he took a sip of his drink.

"I hear that one has to be subtle about such things."

Finally Benedict regained speech.

"What makes you think I swing that way?"  
Rusty shrugged.

"I figured that there was a chance. And if you said yes – perfect. If you said no – no harm done."

Benedict nodded slowly whilst fingering his wineglass. Rusty broke a piece of the baguette off and ate it, still watching Benedict and his reaction.

"So we could just forego this no matter what my answer is?"

Rusty shrugged again. "Theoretically, I guess so. But I like eating." He smiled charmingly.

"So I've heard."

The waiter brought their orders and both men spread the napkins over their laps. The meal proceeded in silence. Terry Benedict alternated between looking at his plate and Rusty, Rusty just watched Benedict while eating. Benedict's gaze was assessing and calculating with a tea-spoon full of distrust. Rusty observed and waited.

The blonde ordered a mousse-au-chocolat for dessert, Benedict finished his wine.

Finally Rusty sighted in defeat and gave a small grimace.

"Well, thank you for dinner. Saying 'no hard feelings' wouldn't exactly be suitable for our situation so I'll leave you to it."

Rusty stood and turned to leave but Benedict stopped him.

"Wait. I didn't say no."

* * *

Continued in Part 3


	3. Part 3

Retrouvailles françaises

_Disclaimer: Neither Ocean's 11, 12 nor 13 belong to me. The Hotel "Metropole" in Monte-Carlo does exist but it is also not mine, I have never been there and make no profit of mentioning it here. Monsieur Beauchène is fictional._

**Part 3**

"_Wait. I didn't say no."_

Rusty turned back, an inquiring look on his face.

"Sit," Benedict said and waved for the waiter. He paid the check.

"Now we leave."

Rusty raised an eyebrow at the other man's sudden move out of his previous almost apathetic state but followed him. Benedict pulled out his cell phone and instructed the person on the other end to come to the restaurant.

"Who did you call?" Rusty asked.

"My driver."

"And where are we going?"

"My condo."

Rusty smiled and stepped closer. Benedict placed one hand on Rusty's back, just behind his hip and kept him close but still at a distance. Benedict was not a man who liked showing affection in public where anyone could see. And while homosexuality was more accepted in Europe, at least legally, than in the States, it could still put him in an awkward position he had no desire to be in.

The car arrived fairly quickly and Rusty opened the backdoor before Benedict or the driver could even think of treating him like a woman and open the door for him. Benedict climbed in after him and off they went.

Benedict's condo was situated at the coast. The outer walls were painted beige, the hallway white. They took the elevator to the third floor.

Rusty followed Benedict sedately into his apartment and closed the door behind him. Benedict had his back towards him and was pouring himself a drink.

"Would you like one as well?" Benedict's voice seemed to be rougher than usual and made Rusty smile, knowing that victory was practically at his fingertips.

"Do I need one?" he asked and, still smiling he stepped up towards the other man. He wound one arm around Benedict's neck and with the other took the glass of liquor to dispose of it on the top of the bar. He leveled his head and hovered with his lips over Benedict's while maintaining eye contact but did not touch them. That would have to be Benedict's decision.

"Ryan…"

"Rusty. I thought you had already come to a decision, _Terry_?"

Terry Benedict's eyes flickered to Rusty's lips and Rusty knew that he had won only seconds before Terry's lips descended and touched his own. Rusty only barely repressed a smile of victory.

* * *

A week later Rusty was enjoying the fresh breeze that ruffled his hair as he leant over the boat's railing to see the port approaching.

"My business here is almost done," Benedict announced. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the carrot that the blonde held.

Rusty shrugged. "It was the only thing they had to offer in the kitchen. Did Monsieur Beauchène agree to sell the Metropole?"

"No matter what went on these last few days I'm not talking to you about my deals, Ryan."

"He must have, though I wonder what price you gave Beauchène to make him lend you his yacht."

"What makes you think that it doesn't belong to me?"

"I know you don't have one," Rusty's charming smile belied the fact that he could cause anyone's downfall and financial ruin with exactly that face and precise research.

Benedict decided not to go into that statement. "I'm leaving on Friday. We will not see each other again before that," he announced.

"Okay."

Benedict raised an eyebrow at Rusty's casual acceptance but the blonde's face revealed nothing. Instead, he was still smiling.

They heard the calls of the crew as the ship docked. When Benedict received no further reaction he turned to pass Rusty. The other man, however, stopped him with an arm around his waist. Benedict looked almost annoyed.

Rusty leant in and kissed him. They watched each other with guarded looks and when Benedict denied Rusty's tongue entrance, Rusty broke the kiss.

"Have a good trip," he merely said, and once again gave the other man a charming smile and dropped his arm.

Benedict nodded once. His hand reached into the pocket of his suit and retrieved the, by now familiar, sunglasses to put them on and complete the picture of the perfectly ruthless business man who had just acquired a new hotel in Monaco.

Rusty watched as the casino tycoon left the boat to get into a waiting sedan. He refused to feel disappointed and he was certain that he and Terry Benedict would meet again.

* * *

And that was the **end**. Thank you very much for reading; now I realize that I have also rarely used this strange button in the left hand corner (I think it says "Submit Review") but comments will be much appreciated.


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